


Heated Consummation (AOS)

by Gimmemore



Series: The Feisty, Frisky Fireplace Fics [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fireplaces, Gay Sex, M/M, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Vulcan Bond, and the naughty things that happen in front of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-16 00:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18084080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gimmemore/pseuds/Gimmemore
Summary: Jim and Spock are on shore leave and things have not gone as planned.  When Jim gets back to their cabin, things get heated between them.  In a very good way.





	Heated Consummation (AOS)

**Author's Note:**

> From an autumn one-word prompt list. I chose: fireplace
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are my own.

They’d decided to come here to get away from it all.  They deserved it.  After everything they’d endured in their relationship - Nero, Vulcan’s destruction, Admiral Marcus, Jim’s own death, Khan, and Krall – they more than deserved it.  Plus, a few months after Jim’s birthday party on Yorktown, he and Spock had finally declared their long-buried feelings for each other.  Less than a year after that, they were bonded and married.  So really, this was kind of like their long overdue honeymoon.

Only, Starfleet had interrupted.  Had found them all the way out here on Otium IV and taken up half of Jim’s day with ‘fleet issues that apparently couldn’t wait.  He’d sent Spock back to their cabin with a wistful look and told him he’d be there as soon as he could.  To make matters worse, while he was sequestered away listening to top brass drone on and on, it had started snowing.

That was eight hours and fourteen inches of snow ago.  He trudged through the wet, powdery fluff lamenting his luck.  Gods, he was cold.  This vacation was not starting off at all like he had hoped.  Most of his plans had involved sex, food, alcohol, and more sex.  And sleep.  Lots of sated, blissful, no-red-alerts, uninterrupted sleep.

He got to the porch of their cabin, stomping his boots to knock off the crusted snow, and punched in the security code on the door panel.  He braced himself, expecting to find a slightly exasperated husband, though he knew Spock would never openly admit to such an emotion.

He was hit with a ridiculous – and grateful – blast of warmth when the door whooshed open.  He quickly took off his jacket and boots, setting them aside to dry by the door, and headed straight for the kitchen to have some hot chocolate with amaretto.  That should warm him up nicely.

But he never made it to the kitchen.  He was stopped short by what lay in the living room.  Spread out in front of the fireplace, on a blanket from who-knows-where, was Spock.  And it was a good thing he was Vulcan and used to dual suns, because any Human would have baked being that close to the fire.

But what had made him stop, what amused him, was _how_ Spock lay there: on his back, arms over his head and legs straight out.  The pose nagged at it him, reminiscent of something he’d seen before, but what, he couldn’t… _that’s it!_   Jim stifled his laughter, body shaking with the contained mirth, trying not to wake his adorable husband.

Spock reminded him of the old barn cats back home in Riverside, or at least the ones that were friendly enough to let you near them. He’d smuggle them into the house during the winter, feeling sorry for them having to sleep in a bitterly cold barn.  He could only manage it though when Frank was sleeping off one of his frequent benders, because without fail, the cat always found the perfect spot in front of the fireplace and ended up on its back, arms over its head and legs straight out, basking in the warmth of the fire.

Oh, if only he could preserve this memory forever with a holo-pic.

He softly stepped into the living room to get a closer look.  When he was near enough, he knelt down by Spock’s shins, and watched as the firelight danced upon his exposed skin.  The tone was a deeper green than usual, flushed from the heat.  Then Spock shifted, their legs so close to touching that Jim could feel the radiating warmth seep through his clothes into his skin.  The movement parted the meditation robe Spock wore, revealing a nicely muscled portion of Spock’s right thigh.

Jim contemplated his next move.  Did he let Spock sleep?  Wake him?  Or perhaps, attempt something else entirely?  Jim grinned with mischief.  He was still cold but having a very hot Vulcan warm him up seemed a better (and infinitely more enjoyable) option than the amaretto hot chocolate.   He looked at his husband and wondered: how warm would his skin be?  Would it be searing hot to the touch?  Jim shivered, no longer due to the cold he’d endured, but because desire began to burn, pooling in the pit of his stomach.

Decision made, he scooted down, bending over to place a soft kiss to the inside of Spock’s exposed knee.  He got through two more kisses, working his way up the verdant bare skin, before his husband struck.  In an instant, Jim was pinned, hands over his head, under a toasty-warm, startled awake Vulcan.

Jim laughed in delight.  “Wow.  So moral of the story is: Don’t touch the Spock-cat while they lay basking in front of the fire or they pounce.  Got it.”

Spock said nothing, though mild exasperation crept into his warm, brown eyes.  It took a few seconds for Spock to become fully awake, but when he did, his first words were an assessment of Jim’s bodily temperature.  “You are chilled.”

“Well walking out in a snowstorm will do that to you.”  But being pinned beneath his husband was currently doing a lot to remedy that issue.  He licked his lips.  “Why don’t you warm me up?”  To emphasize his point he arched up, hips grinding against Spock; a clear indication of what he wanted.

“You are hopeless.”

“Hopelessly in love with my sexy, Vulcan husband,” he countered, grinding his hips again in invitation.  To tease further, Jim slowly, deliberately licked his lips again, tongue making a slow glide across them.  He knew it was a weakness of Spock’s. 

Spock’s nostrils flared, pupils dilating.  He growled out, “Remove your clothes, or I will remove them for you.”

Oh yes, he’d hit the right button.  Jim shivered in anticipation, scrambling to shimmy out of his clothes while Spock sat back on his haunches, easily discarding his robe.  Jim paused, taking a moment to appreciate olive skin glowing in the firelight before laying back down.

Spock wasted no time, starting at his thighs and working up, rubbing and kneading and occasionally leaning over to nip at pink skin.  Jim couldn’t contain his little gasps of pleasure.  Spock moved further up, along his lower stomach, and then higher, tracing ribs with his tongue only to move up to his chest and then to each nipple in turn; biting, licking, and sucking all along the way.  Heat blossomed, spreading out from his core becoming molten fire travelling along his veins to set his nerves on edge.  His body shuddered when he felt Spock’s cock rub against his inner thigh; precum and natural Vulcan lubrication smearing along his skin.

Spock made to move back, but Jim wrapped his legs around Spock hips in an attempt to keep him close, teasing and arching into him again.  Spock pinned him again, only this time using his hands to push at the back of Jim’s thighs, holding him open and tilting his pelvis.  He felt Spock at his entrance and stilled.

“You will take me,” Spock rumbled, his timbre deep and rough.  “And you will feel every inch.”

“Fuck.”  Jim’s cock jumped, clearly telegraphing its endorsement.  They’d done this before, so Jim wasn’t worried about taking Spock without the usual stretching and extra lube.  But what it did mean, was making Jim’s mind and body focus on every muscle, every torturous stretch, every give of his body, until he opened fully for his husband and drown in the overwhelming sensation of it all.  And Spock knew it.

Spock began by pressing at the puckered ring of muscle with small movements of his hips, firm and demanding; the precum leaking from Spock making Jim’s hole wet.  Each time, Spock pushed a little harder, until the muscle relaxed and stretched, giving way to swallow the tip of his cock.  Jim moaned, guttural in the back of his throat.  The stretch felt so good.

Spock almost fully withdrew, time and time again, until Jim was easily taking the double-ridged head inside his body.  Then Jim felt the pressure increase as Spock went deeper, insistent against the inner ring of his channel.  Normally, if they’d opened him up using his or Spock’s fingers, or a toy, Jim could take him all in a single, long, drawn out thrust, but without it, the ache in him was keen and sharp. 

Again, Spock tested; a dozen shortened, gentle thrusts, nudging persistently, over and over, weakening his body’s resistance to the intrusion.  Spock pushed harder against the muscle, until together, with Spock surging forward and Jim bearing down, the tight ring opened to his husband.  Jim shook, muscles quivering as he gasped, Spock slipping deeper inside in an instant.  Jim’s body protested at the stretch, the inner ring spasming in an ache of pleasure-pain.  Spock stilled and waited for his body to calm; until his body no longer fought the cock breaching him, until his muscles stopped quaking, until he breathed deep and relaxed.

“Yes, James.  Good.  You are doing so well for me.”  Spock tested their connection with a small pump of his hips, dragging his cock along Jim’s inner walls, coating them with his Vulcan lubrication.

Jim trembled.  Gods, Spock felt huge like this. His whole body shivered at the next thrust as it accepted Spock’s girth more easily than the last and readily swallowed it all again.  Jim breathed out a contented sigh at the fullness within him.  And he wasn’t the only one enjoying themselves.  When Spock was finally flush against him, cock fully imbedded, hips to ass, he let out a satisfied huff.  But then Spock stopped and waited, making no move to go any further.

“Oh, come on, Spock,” Jim implored.  “I’m ready.  I’m good to go.”  To make sure Spock was convinced, he ground his hips against him, grasping Spock’s arms for leverage and using what little mobility he had to try and drive his husband crazy.

Spock gripped harder at his thighs, pushing them farther aside, spreading his hips that much wider as an eyebrow shot up in reprimand.  “You are only ready when I say you are.”  With that declaration, Spock released his legs and laid atop him, threading one under his head, to grasp and tug his hair, arching his neck, while the other crept between his torso and arm and under his shoulder blade, only to grip tight over his shoulder.  He wrapped his arms around Spock’s shoulders, his knees anchored against Spock’s ribs.  He was effectively pinned again.

“We shall see if you are, indeed, ‘good to go,’” Spock whispered into his neck.  Spock held him tight, landing sudden, powerful, pointed thrusts, over and over again.  Jim had nowhere to move nor any ability to pull back; he was made to take his husband’s cock.

Jim shuddered, goosebumps pricking along his flesh as he moaned his approval.  Spock took him, alternating between rocking, shortened thrusts, and deep, piercing ones.  Jim felt like he was being pulled apart, piece-by-piece, inch-by-inch.  Spock toyed with him; hitting his prostate and working him almost to orgasm, only to slow, prolong, and torture.

It wasn’t until Jim keened and mewled with need, begging, “Please, Spock.  I need…oh, gods please,” that Spock gripped hard, hard enough his neck strained and his shoulder protested, and fucked him.  Hands scrabbled at Spock’s back, Spock hissing when his nails bit into heated flesh.

Spock made use of his exposed, arched neck, biting and sucking, leaving bruises along it, marking him.  Spock thrust harder.  Jim was shattering, his gut clenching, the pressure unbearable.  His own cock, turgid and untouched, was locked between their intertwined bodies.  He made to grab for it, to sneak his hand between their bodies and stroke himself to completion, but Spock growled, “You will come impaled on my _lok_ or not at all.”

Jim whined.  This was torturous.  Spock released his hold and leaned back once more, seizing his hips and angling his pelvis.  Spock thrust with pure Vulcan precision, hitting Jim’s prostate with every pump of his hips, the double-ridge of Spock’s cock thump-thumping across it, back and forth in an explosive rhythm.  The pleasure built, his muscles quivering with prolonged, pent up need, but he couldn’t tip over.  He started thrashing in frustration, the pleasure colored with barbed spikes of near pain.  “I can’t…I can’t take…,” he pleaded, the overstimulation too much to bear.

Spock slowed at once, almost stopping completely.  Measured, even thrusts, gentle rotations, and an occasional grinding of hips helped slow Jim’s breathing and even out his body’s reaction.  At the same time, the pressure rebuilt, no longer an overwhelming blunt edge but finer, sharper, more exquisite.  Spock kept an even pace until Jim whimpered, his body ready to tip over into oblivion.  Intensifying his thrusts, Jim felt nothing but Spock, nothing but his husband filling and stretching him, nothing but the storm raging, cresting within him until his body exploded; lightening singeing his nerves and thunder reverberating in his chest, shattering and shaking him as he came apart. 

He screamed, crying out, his cock pulsing and painting his stomach and chest in his release.  Spock grunted, continuing to plunge into Jim as Jim’s channel clenched and spasmed, squeezing tight around Spock’s cock.  Jim had almost had too much when Spock took one last thrust, pulling Jim flush to him and buried deep.  Spock came with a single, wild shout, filling him.

They both collapsed, satiated and content.  Once they separated, they lay side-by-side, with Spock closest to the roaring fire.  It took a few minutes, but when Jim at last regained his breath, he turned to Spock with just enough energy to chuckle out, “Remind me that when we retire, our home definitely has to have a fireplace.”  Spock hummed in reply, certainly looking like the cat that got the cream.

When retirement finally came, they settled down in a modest house; and there was most definitely a fireplace.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own Star Trek, nor am I profiting from this in any way. I am merely playing with the characters for enjoyment's sake.


End file.
